Паутина Шарлотты

           You’renobundleofsweetpeasyourself.Furthermore,youareinterruptingaverypleasantconversation.Whatwerewetalkingabout,Wilbur,whenweweresorudelyinterrupted?

           "Oh,Idon’tremember,"saidWilbur."Itdoesn’tmakeanydifference.Let’snottalkanymoreforawhile,Charlotte.I’mgettingsleepy.YougoaheadandfinishfixingyourwebandI’lljustliehereandwatchyou.It’salovelyevening."Wilburstretchedoutonhisside.

           TwilightsettledoverZuckerman’sbarn,andafeelingofpeace.Fernknewitwasalmostsuppertimebutshecouldn’tbeartoleave.Swallowspassedonsilentwings,inandoutofthedoorways,bringingfoodtotheiryoungones.Fromacrosstheroadabirdsang"Whippoorwill,whippoorwill!"Lurvysatdownunderanappletreeandlithispipe;theanimalssniffedthefamiliarsmellofstrongtobacco.Wilburheardthetrillofthetreetoadandtheoccasionalslammingofthekitchendoor.Allthesesoundsmadehimfeelcomfortableandhappy,forhelovedlifeandlovedtobeapartoftheworldonasummerevening.Butashelaythereherememberedwhattheoldsheephadtoldhim.Thethoughtofdeathcametohimandhebegantotremblewithfear.

           "Charlotte?"hesaid,softly.

           "Yes,Wilbur?"

           "Idon’twanttodie."

           "Ofcourseyoudon’t,"saidCharlotteinacomfortingvoice.

           "Ijustloveithereinthebarn,"saidWilbur."Iloveeverythingaboutthisplace."

           "Ofcourseyoudo,"saidCharlotte."Wealldo."

           Thegooseappeared,followedbyhersevengoslings.Theythrusttheirlittlenecksoutandkeptupamusicalwhistling,likeatinytroupeofpipers.